


Can We Talk About This?

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: First Kiss, Handcuffs, Holding Hands, I didn't mean to do that, M/M, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27409252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: Peter's had enough of being lied to this time. If Neal won't stop, then Peter will stop him.
Relationships: Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	Can We Talk About This?

**Author's Note:**

> I was encouraged to write this, and I just had to get it out of my head so I can go back to what I'm supposed to be doing. It doesn't fit anywhere specifically in the series, but I hope it's still enjoyable despite that.

“You need to stop,” Peter said, unlocked his front door, and shoved Neal through it.

“Can we talk about this?” Neal asked frantically. His attempt to break Peter’s hold on his wrist got him nowhere, and a moment later the handcuff clicked into place to fasten him to the bannister of the staircase. Peter didn’t let go of Neal’s wrist, though, looking down at his fingers locked around the fine bones, feeling Neal’s pulse hammering under his fingertips.

“You need to stop, Neal, and I know you’re not going to. So I’m going to stop you.”

“Peter…” The handcuffs didn’t matter, Neal could get out of those without even paying attention. But Peter’s hand clamped firmly but not painfully around his arm was unpickable, immovable, warm and strong and inescapable. Even though Peter was visibly furious, he wasn’t hurting Neal, though Neal knew very well that he could. But he wasn’t going to let go. Neal inhaled, held it for a second, and made himself relax on the exhale. “Please, can we talk about this?” he asked in a smooth, even voice.

“I don’t know, can we have a conversation without you lying to me? Because your track record’s gone to hell these past few days.” Peter finally looked up to meet Neal’s eyes, and even though Neal knew that he’d earned every speck of scorn in his gaze, seeing it hurt more than the implacable grip on his wrist.

“I can explain,” Neal said, and closed his eyes to pull the thread that ran through all the details he’d need to fill in the blanks of the surveillance Peter had set that he’d slipped past on multiple occasions.

“Yeah, I bet you can,” Peter said, “I bet you have a very good explanation, and you’ve been keeping me out of this to protect me. But you keep forgetting that I don’t need your protection, Neal. I need your _honesty_. I need you to work with me and stop trying to play me like a pawn—”

“Peter, please. You’re a _knight_.” Neal couldn’t help himself, hint of a hopeful smile pulling at the corner of his lips, knowing it was a misstep even as he made it.

“Unbelievable,” Peter said, in a tone of voice Neal wished he didn’t deserve. “You can’t charm me this time. I know that if I so much as take my eyes off you, you’ll disappear.”

“I won’t,” Neal said, “but please take the handcuff off, can we sit down? I’ll behave. I swear I won’t vanish.”

Peter’s gaze narrowed, but he pulled out the key and uncuffed Neal’s wrist without letting go of it. “I know you won’t vanish,” he said, pulling Neal along to the couch. “You’re not getting away from me. Not now.”

“Will you let me explain? Or do you just want to hold hands, because—” 

_I am an idiot,_ Neal thought when Peter’s eyes widened, _I am a dead idiot_ , as Peter’s free hand twisted in Neal’s tie and the front of his shirt, _I am… fucking oblivious, apparently_ , when Peter’s lips crashed into Neal’s in something that was entirely unlike what Neal had thought Peter’s kisses would be like when his thoughts had, increasingly often, strayed onto what it might be like to kiss him. Peter froze after several long moments of plundering Neal’s mouth, let out a sharp, shaky sigh of resignation straight into his lips, and gave Neal something that was almost exactly like what he had thought Peter’s kisses would be like.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Peter said when he pulled away. “Not like this.” 

“You meant to do it another way?” Neal’s voice shook, and so did the hand that Peter still had by the wrist: not by a lot, just a fine tremor, but Peter had no trouble clocking it. 

“I didn’t mean to do it out of anger,” Peter said. “But you…” He shook his head with a frustrated exhale. “Damn it, Neal. You’re too smart to be too stupid to understand why I want you to keep me in the loop when you’re sticking your neck out.”

“I don’t want to drag you down with me,” Neal said. “If you didn’t know, then you couldn’t—”

“I am not going to investigate your murder.” Peter’s hand was still fisted in Neal’s shirt, and he gave him a little shake. 

“You have to,” Neal said, wide-eyed. “No one else in the world would even try to get justice for me.”

“I’d rather keep you alive, if you’ll let me help you!” Neal had never seen such a look of exasperation on Peter’s face, and he was a connoisseur of just those expressions. “I don’t want to have to mourn you—” 

This time it was Neal who swooped in for the kiss, wondering whether Peter had thought about what it might be like to kiss him and whether he was living up to expectations. Gently, he pulled on the hand Peter still had around his wrist, but Peter’s grip didn’t loosen, so Neal reached up with that hand to touch Peter’s cheek.

“I told you, you’re not getting away from me,” Peter said, but he turned into Neal’s touch the moment before he pulled his hand back down. “Now, are you going to talk to me, or do you just want to hold hands...?” 

“Can we do both?” Neal asked hopefully. “Because I have a lot to tell you.”

Peter looked down at their hands, released his grip on Neal’s wrist, and moved to lace his fingers through Neal’s instead: just as firm and inescapable a hold, but on more even terms. “How about you start with Sunday night when you lost Jones,” he suggested. Neal nodded, pulled on that mental thread, and started to spin the web to fill in the gaps he’d engineered in Peter’s knowledge.


End file.
